The Good Fight
by Red Aurora
Summary: Future Charles isn't as convinced as he lets on that things are going to plan. His fears are confirmed when his younger self visits. He instigates a plan of his own, one that will ensure their victory…at a price. Something dark is awakened within Charles, something that could mean salvation or destruction, something that will do whatever it takes to win back what he has lost.
1. Chapter 1

_Good grief, this story has been fighting me hard. It is shocking difficult to recharacterize someone you've been writing for over 3 years. But I'm giving it a shot. I'm not sure how quickly chapters will come out. Like I said, this story is fighting me some (it's aptly named), plus I'm teaching a class all by myself for the first time ever (simultaneous cheer and panicky flail) AND I'm trying to get my qualifying paper finished by the end of the summer. I'll do the best I can._

_For those who haven't been introduced to Onslaught before, welcome! I hope this first chapter isn't too confusing. Let me know if it is. It will get better._

_For those of you who have read my other Onslaught stories, hi! *waves* This Onslaught will probably end up being different than the one in my other stories. Not crazy different, but different all the same. Different events shaping him and all that._

_Also, unlike my other Onslaught stories, this one has almost no basis in the comics. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't work it out with the other Onslaught story lines without making it a copy of at least one part of my other four stories. Which also makes this my first story with Onslaught where all of the plot not based in the movie is coming from my head. We'll see how it goes._

_Special thanks go out to icanhearthedrums and aeskis for letting me bounce ideas off of them._

_No copyright infringement intended. I don't own X-Men. Sadness._

**_Also, there will be spoilers for Days of Future Past. So many spoilers. _**

_This picks up rather in the middle of things...as in smack in the middle of the movie. It should be fairly obvious what scene it is fairly early if I did things well._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Behind the door, should I open it for you? (Metallica, "The Unforgiven II")**

One moment, Charles was sitting in Cerebro. His head and heart throbbed in time with the failure of the ability he'd controlled since age 12 and his fingers rested on the temples of a man whose faith that Charles would become some kind of great leader of the mutant cause was as unshakable as it was inexplicable.

The next, he was opening his eyes laying on a stone slab. Stained glass windows cast a muzzy golden glow over the…was it a room? More of a temple really. He sat up. There were two older men in front of him, two younger mutants at his side. The young woman - it must have been her mutation that brought Logan's mind to the past - was injured. He couldn't tell how, but she was obviously in pain. The young man at her side was trying to help, casting worried glances at the shaking woman's face every now and again. Friends, then...possibly more. They weren't even alive yet in Charles' time.

The two older men, though, were familiar. The one standing at the back of the other was obviously…well, Erik was stubborn. Of course he would keep the same cape for decades, well into a dystopia in which a cape would be neither productive nor imposing. Even here, in his own future, he couldn't bear to look at the man who had lost him so much.

He stood from the table. The man he leaned in front of was safer ground. He was almost positive of who it was. A glimpse at his eyes would confirm it-

"Charles," the man said, meeting his gaze.

The long-abandoned scientist within him scurried forward with a startled laugh. Because it was indeed startling, meeting oneself.

"Charles," he replied. As quickly as it had come, the novelty of the situation trickled away. He glanced around the room again. "So this is what becomes of us. Erik was right. Humanity does this to us."

His older self bestowed a humoring smile on him, one he'd given students when they'd been brave enough to speak up in class, but didn't answer the question quite correctly. "Not if we show them a better path."

"You still believe?"

"Just because someone stumbles, loses their way, it doesn't mean they're lost forever." There was more to that mantra, he could tell, but he didn't know this face, his own mind, well enough to read into what it was. "Sometimes we all need a little help."

Help. He used to think nobody was beyond his help. Naivety at its best. "I'm not the man I was. I open my mind and it almost overwhelms me."

The smile turned sympathetic, understanding. It struck him that his older counterpart had been where he was. How had he escaped the void of hopelessness? What happened in this older man's past, Charles' future, that spurred him to recover, to live again, to work with-

"You're afraid and Cerebro knows it."

"All those voices. So much pain." Tears were rising. There was no point in tamping them down. As if he could hide anything from the man in front of him.

Older Charles hesitated, asked permission with a barely perceptible look. Charles met his penetrating gaze head on. Older Him wanted to see everything. How could Charles deny a man trying to save his future? Permission given, he could feel Older Charles peaking around his mind. He flipped through memories of the past few days. Logan finding them. Breaking Erik out of prison. The plane. The disaster in France.

Older Charles' emotions were concealed, but still Charles could sense them. A thrill that their plan to get Logan back had worked. Fondness for the boy Logan had introduced them to – Peter (how anyone could be fond of the kleptomaniac, Charles didn't know). Pain at the confrontation between Charles and Erik on the plane (they'd fought many times, Charles could tell, but seeing it from the outside brought new perspective). Resignation after Erik had attempted to kill Raven. Resignation? As if he'd been expecting to fail.

Then Older Charles was gone, and they were blinking at one another from the golden room again. The older man took a deep breath, let it out, cast a barely-there glance to the unresponsive man at his back, then came to some kind of decision.

"It's not their pain you're afraid of. It's yours. And as frightening as it may be, that pain will make you stronger. If you allow yourself to feel it embrace it, it will make you more powerful than you ever imagined."

Charles pulled back, revulsion spreading as the true meaning behind his older self's words sunk in. "You cannot mean-"

Older Charles continued to look at him serenely. "That is exactly what I mean. It's the greatest gift we have."

"Gift?" Charles sneered. "To call him a gift- what happened to us?"

This could not be him. He would never-

He was pacing now. What could have happened to him that his older self was so willing to speak of their…pain…as if it were a blessing?

"Look at me, Charles," the deeper voice said from beside him. He was too lost in his own thoughts to process it.

Something must be wrong. Erik…Erik must have corrupted him somehow. "No! _He – _our pain-" he spat, "is not worth this. Whatever future you have, _He_ will only make it worse."

"You forget that I've lived with him far longer than you have."

That stopped him in his tracks. "Lived with _Him_? As in-"

"Cooperated. You have no idea the power you have within you. I didn't find it until years after where you are now and even then…there were extenuating circumstances. Keeping him locked away is only making him worse. If you accept him, you can be the end to the war we so desperately want to avoid."

Charles huffed a laugh. Older Him was a bit egotistical, wasn't he? Perhaps Erik had worn off on him more than he thought. "How do you know he won't go mad? Last time- Last time he tried to kill a man, maimed another-"

"Allow me to talk to him. We can come to an understanding."

Charles hovered a few feet away from himself. He'd never been good at covering his distress, knew he was given away by his hitched breathing and the look of _terror-indecision-consideration_ etched over his brow. If he did this…if he let his older self talk to _Him_ then that would be it. Because once that talk concluded, there was no way _He_ would allow himself to be locked any longer, not after he'd been acknowledged after so many years of neglect. _He_ was already angry at Charles for letting their telepathy go to waste.

His older self was trying to make it seem as if Charles would have the final say afterwards. As if he could talk with _Him_ then come out and discuss it with Charles and have Charles decide what to do.

They both knew that wasn't the case. The decision was to be made right here, right now.

The prospect of unleashing _Him_ on the world was not a good one. In fact, it was rather terrifying. But…he could feel the bare edges of what was happening in the future…what had happened to get them here. He could see all of Logan's memories of the Sentinals. Their friends would die. Most of the population would be wiped out. For the first time, he glanced at the figure he'd been so meticulously ignoring. He would've recognized the man even without the cape. Erik Lehnsherr had always carried himself with the grace and power a leader should. And here he was, standing at Charles' back, the pair of them working together to avoid the horrors of the future he himself could only catch glimpses of.

Not to mention how difficult it was living with _Him_ in the background. It was always a struggle, a constant fight he knew he would never win until the day he died. It would be so much easier if he gave in. If his older counterpart was to be trusted, it wouldn't be the end of the world…

He was so tired of fighting.

Without a word, he moved toward his older self again in measured steps and resumed his previous position, meeting his own older eyes once more. Old Charles smiled and put his fingers to Charles' temples. No going back now.

* * *

He'd forgotten the bewildering combination of chaos and order that his younger mind had been in 1973. He ignored most of it. There too much pain, too much hopelessness, too much of himself concealed, and time was of the essence. Finding the cage he knew to be his goal was easy despite the fact that the cage hadn't existed in his own mind for decades. He stood before it in the blink of an eye. The cage's occupant shot to his feet. The figure was at the bars separating them between one blink and the next.

An almost perfect replication of his younger self gazed neutrally back at him. Not the tired, broken Charles who had spoken with him moments before. This was like looking into a mirror and finding 1962 staring back at him.

It made sense, he supposed. He'd started the serum not too many years after '62, long before he fully surrendered to the hopelessness pervading the other Charles. With his telepathy gone, the creature standing before him would've gone with it, frozen in time without the ability to evolve with Charles. His short hair was perfectly in place. The blue cardigan and perfectly ironed pants he wore betrayed nothing of the sinister features that made the entity so dangerous; the fact that those features could be so easily obscured made him even more so. The only thing betraying his true nature was the burning orange aura that surrounded his body and the eyes the glowed like coal in a fire.

After a preliminary once-over (squaring up his potential adversary…everyone the creature met was a potential adversary, after all), the entity settled himself, hands locked behind his back.

"And who do we have here? I haven't had a visitor in, well, ever," his younger doppelganger said. The voice was crisp, sharp in a way that had been missing in the Charles of 1973.

"Come and see," Charles said with a tap to his temple. "I have nothing to hide."

The man in the cage hesitated. Charles could read the internal battle (_Is this a trap? If it is, should I spring it? If I do, can I still gain an advantage? If I don't, what do I lose?_), before _He_, as Young Charles so humorously continued to call it, narrowed his eyes. Charles opened his mind and let him flick through.

It was almost comical to watch the entity's face. His gaze was distant, but his blinking and breathing became more rapid as he stretched, greedy to take in as much information as he could as fast as he was capable. When Charles felt He'd had enough, he nudged the entity from his mind. It stumbled back, gasping and staring at Charles with wide eyes before his mask slid back on with a minute shake of his head. Another blink and He was back at the cage bars again, hands behind his back same as before, this time with his head tilted in curiosity.

"And what is Charles doing with his mind in the future? Better yet, why are you visiting me? We both know that, of the three of us, he's the one who needs a guiding light."

"A guiding light is not what Charles needs. He needs confidence, faith that his ability can be his own again. Things I suspect you have in excess."

The entity quirked an eyebrow. "Do I?"

"I know you and Charles better than either of your know yourselves for the time being. The future needs our help. We, Erik and I, trusted our younger counterparts to perform the task, but the situation has become tenuous. I cannot lose the opportunity to ensure the safety of our future."

"And you believe I'm the way to do that?" the entity said, incredulity barely concealed.

This time it was Charles quirking an eyebrow. "As I said, I know you better than you know yourself at the moment."

The creature ran a hand through his hair, sparing a glance at the bald head before him. As soon as he noticed he was being observed, he stopped and resumed his previous position. "You say you and Magneto trusted your younger selves with the task, yet here you stand. I can't help but wonder if perhaps Erik had more faith than you for once. This was not a spur of the moment decision."

"It wasn't."

"You're not as optimistic as you let on."

"In ensuring that our future is saved? Optimism is best practiced when one uses all the resources at hand."

"I'm a resource to be used? You would let me out, give me a taste of the world, then what? You expect me to do your dirty work and go back into my cage with a pat on the head," he entity spat, turning a full spin with open arms, a mocking gesture at his quarters. "I'm not a pet." With that, He slammed back against the bars, grasp white-knuckled on either side of his head that would have shoved through the gap had it been wide enough. "If you let me out, I will not be imprisoned again. I will do what I must to ensure that."

Charles gave Him the same serene smile he'd bestowed on his younger counterpart. "We don't expect you to go back."

The entity pulled back with such force he stumbled a few steps away. "You would willingly free me knowing what you know of me?"

"You will not be allowed to do anything...rash."

"And who will stop me?"

"Charles will."

The creature scoffed. "His mind is already weak." He walked the length of the cage and back, running his hands over the bars. "The only reason I haven't escaped is because these defenses are the same ones he set in his prime. I'll lock him away as he did me. You'll never see the light of day again."

"Then Erik and Raven will stop you. You are not as omnipotent as you like to think yourself."

"You expect me to believe that our sister and a man who can move a bit of metal could kill me?"

"Kill you? Perhaps not. Defeat you, most certainly."

The entity narrowed his eyes again. "There is no difference. Defeat comes only in death." He ignored the knowing smile that crossed Charles' face. "Regardless, somehow I don't think you came back here to sacrifice your younger mind to me."

"Indeed I did not. I have a proposition. Work together with Charles. When your task is finished, he will allow you to remain uncaged. To share his mind. Neither of you would be trapped. You would both have free reign."

The entity was quiet for a moment, staring at the man before him. "You must be truly desperate if this is the plan you sacrificed your X-Men for."

"You've seen what the future holds. You know the situation is dire. I would not have wasted our chance at saving the future if I did not have absolute faith in this plan working."

"Your faith has always been the problem."

"Beneath all the desire for domination instilled in you, you have your own desires. Freedom. Acceptance. I'm offering you that. They will last far longer than even your most successful attempt at domination."

The entity was silent, contemplating, wary. "You can ensure that Charles won't imprison me again."

"As you said, his mind has been weakened over the years. He has lost his hope. Hope that I wager he's managed to pass onto you." The creature finally dropped his gaze, moving it to the wall and giving it a casual once-over, running his hand down a crack in the rock. Charles continued, "We need him to hope again. You are the answer. Do we have a deal, Onslaught?"

His younger visage stood back, keeping his eyes on the wall for another moment before returning them to Charles, narrowing once more. Charles stared back, open, allowing Onslaught to look through whatever he liked. A leer split the entity's face. "Onslaught. I like that." Onslaught's eyes focused on something behind Charles. "What do you think?"

Charles turned to find his younger self standing ten feet behind him. His expression was somewhere between fear and resignation as he stared at the entity in the cage.

Old Charles stood to the side to allow Young Charles to come forward, eyes never leaving his doppelganger. He didn't stop until he was inches from Onslaught's face. Emotion poured off of him. Old Charles could feel it, remembered how open he'd been despite his best efforts to forget it.. The early 1970s had been dark for him, perhaps darker than any other time of his life. Even when Erik had tried to use him to commit genocide against humanity and left him to die as Raven stood by and did nothing, he still had his school to pull him from the shadows of hopelessness.

Young Charles took the time to look Onslaught over head to toe, slowly, taking every detail in. "I spent so many years fighting you. You've caused me nothing but pain. Pain and suffering."

"Yet, without me, what kind of man would you be? Certainly not the upstanding citizen we used to be before you locked yourself away and destroyed your greatest gift."

"Ha," Young Charles laughed humorlessly. "You sound like Erik."

The orange aura flared, then settled. "He is misguided, but he is not wrong about everything." Onslaught's demeanor shifted from uncompromising to imploring. "I can help you, Charles. I can make the pain bearable. Let me. Let me help us."

Charles recognized the tone immediately. Onslaught was a complicated creature, a devastating concoction of manipulation and genuineness. One could never tell how much of either one was receiving. It was a code even he hadn't cracked, and so he had no way of telling whether the Onslaught now genuinely wished to help his other half or if he was taking advantage of a situation already tipping in his favor.

Young Charles was silent again, probably trying to puzzle out exactly what Charles had been working on himself. He closed his eyes, sighed, reopened them with resigned determination. "I will free you because I cannot fight you anymore. As soon as the serum wore off, it was as if you'd never left. I can't- I can't anymore. He," Young Charles gestured at his older counterpart, "says we can work together. If it will save us from this future, then I will allow it."

Onslaught's face split into a grin. Young Charles turned to Charles. "I certainly hope you know what you're talking about."

Charles gave a nod. It was done now. Erik would perhaps be less than pleased, but he'd made plenty of decisions without Charles' input. This was for the best. Yes, the probability of Onslaught rebelling were high. Very high. But the entity would do what he had to to save the future before he did so. That much Charles knew. Onslaught had gotten them far in the war. If Charles accepted him earlier who knows where they would've been.

Yet he also knew how his younger self would see the situation. The future now rode on the shoulders of a being who, before Young Charles started losing his hope, was the equivalent of a psychopath that quite literally had the ability to control the world. He had faith it would work. Absolute faith, as he said. But faith, by definition, meant taking a leap into the unknown.

Young Charles pulled a key from his pocket and fit it in the lock. With Onslaught practically vibrating on the other side, the door swung open.

* * *

Logan felt when Charles pulled away.

"Find what you were looking for?"

Chuck was staring at him, not saying anything. Shit, had he messed up again? Really, any other mutant would be better suited for this. He'd told them patience wasn't his strong suit. Neither was helping those who were lost. What had he been thinking? Was he even helping or was his future even worse than it had been?

And what the hell was that?!

He could've sworn an orange flame had flared behind the telepath's eyes. Leaning over, he tried to look again, but the man had shut his eyes and had a hand to his head like the few times he'd overused Cerebro early in the war, back when they had a chance of saving people. Logan shook away the memory.

"Professor, you okay?"

The Professor's eyes fluttered open again. It almost seemed like he was watching for a reaction. There was none to be had. The eyes were the same blue as they had been before. Must have just been a trick of the light. But then why was he watching for a reaction? Had he been freaked out by what he saw in the future? That had to be it. Nothing more. Right?

Hank must have figured out the lights because they flickered back on. Sure enough, the kid strode back into the room not two seconds later.

"Power's back on."

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Charles smirked. Odd. He looked almost smug. Then again, Logan had never been the best a reading people. That was the Professor's job.

"Yes," Charles said.

As the telepath turned to head back to Cerebro, his two companions were deprived of the chance to see his eyes flare brilliant orange again.

"Yes it is."

* * *

_All the dialogue in Young Charles' first interaction with Old Charles ("Charles" to "...it will make you more powerful than you ever imagined.") is directly quoted from the movie._

_I feel like Inception just happened. Old Charles is in Young Charles' mind while Young Charles is in Logan's mind. And hopefully having 3 versions of Charles didn't make this incomprehensible. So many pronouns and referents..._

_Reviews generally help me write faster. Let me know what you think!_

_Also, forgive any errors or repetition. This is unbetaed. _


	2. Chapter 2

_I feel like I should have a section at the beginning of every chapter called "Red Aurora's Excuses for Not Updating Earlier". I am so so sorry for the wait. Things got really out of hand. The class I was teaching (all by myself not as an assistant!) took WAY more time than I thought plus I was editing my qualifying paper. Then my mom came to visit and a cat from home died unexpectedly and I've been working really hard on a cosplay for an upcoming con, so it's been a little intense. _

_Also, I had an epic writing failure, which aeskis and icanhearthedrums can attest to because I complained to them about it. My fingers kept typing 2000 words even though I was like "No, stop, I don't like this at all!" It was so bad that I actually inserted a picture of a mushroom cloud at the end of it. That put me off to writing more on this until now._

_So here we are with a second chapter. Not the second chapter I was intending, but a scene I was going to write anyway and it fit here, so there ya go (after responses to reviewers)._

_EmperialGem21, MirrorFlower and Darkwind, juz-a-reviewer, Elles: I'm glad you all approved! Sorry you had to wait so long to find out what happens next! Hopefully it satisfies._

_weemcg33: I loved that scene in the film. I'd been watching with the hope that I could make it an Onslaught fic and when that scene happened I nearly started jumping up and down saying "It can happen here! It can happen here!" Also, the acting in that scene was amazing all around, so it was pretty awesome. There was so much Charles happening I obviously had to throw in a third. Haha!_

_Book girl fan: Good that the three Charles' wasn't confusing! I did realize halfway through writing what I was actually involved in it and how many minds were involved and it made my head spin a little. There was some serious Inception action going on._

_icanhearthedrums: I finally got another chapter done after that disastrous attempt at writing I told you about! Yay! I've been crazy busy but maybe we can talk more soon. :)_

_passion of Imbattables: Aww, thanks! I appreciate any and all reviews (as long as they aren't needlessly mean), so short ones are definitely welcome. I hope you keep enjoying it!_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Keep me guessing, keep me terrified (Seether, "Words as Weapons")**

The airport bustled with people, none paying much attention to the pretty blonde sitting on one of the benches. That was the point. Blend in. She didn't need any distractions. Well, no more distraction than the pain still shooting up her leg. Or her former leader trying to kill her. Or seeing her brother for the first time in, well, a while.

Shockingly, it was the last of the three that left her the most unsettled. Charles had been so happy to see her. Not that she hadn't been happy to see him. She hadn't realized how much she missed him. She was angry at him, yes, but he was still her brother. They'd grown up together, protected each other. She knew Charles better than anyone else on the planet (no matter what Erik tried to tell himself). Even after the years away, she could still read him. The man she'd seen in Paris was such a broken shell of the brother she'd known that she almost didn't recognize him.

Between Erik attacking her, the media debacle, and finding a place to get her leg taken care of, it wasn't until now that she had time to comprehend what she'd seen in him. There was so little of the man who had eagerly gathered a group of mutants to teach and train. And why couldn't he use his telepathy? What the hell had happened while she'd been gone?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the woman behind her turned her direction.

"Raven, stop. Stop running."

The woman had what Raven assumed were her own intonations, but there was no mistaking Charles' voice. Whatever had happened to his powers, it was fixed now.

"Charles, where are you?"

"Back at the house. Where you should be. I need you to come home."

After seeing him, she didn't doubt that statement. But there was something else…a lack of sincerity. He was manipulating her again. Always trying to get her to do exactly what he wanted. A voice whispered in the back of her mind, reminding her how broken Charles had been, how unlikely it was for him to have shifted so quickly from that to this, but she pushed it away. She had a mission.

"I know what I need to do," she said as she stood.

Not ten seconds later, another stranger startled her as she brushed by him. "If you kill Trask, you'll be creating countless more just like him."

Again, something was missing behind the words, but she didn't have time to analyze it. She needed to get away from Charles, get to her flight. She could already feel the beginnings of a headache from the energy it took to keep her mind shielded from Cerebro's spindly fingers.

"Then I'll kill them too."

Another stranger passed by. "Those are Erik's words not yours."

She scoffed, walked faster. He didn't know her at all. The conversation had quickly become a painful reminder of a part of the past she'd rather forget. She had to get away from him. She didn't see the stewardess in her path until they collided. They bent simultaneously to pick up the ticket Raven had dropped.

"The girl I grew up with was incapable of killing. She was good, fair, and full of compassion."

_You forgot naïve, sheltered, and yours to command_, she wanted to add.

"I have compassion. Just not for Trask. He's murdered too many of us."

The stewardess let her go and the next people she passed made no move to convince her of anything. Charles was gone just long enough that she thought maybe he'd given up. Of course, then he popped up ten feet in front of her. She stuttered to a stop, couldn't stop the gasp of shock.

The mismatch between this figure and the man she'd seen earlier created a juxtaposition that threw her off balance. Physically, he looked the same as he had at the summit…scraggly hair framing his face (that the Charles she'd left in Cuba would've been appalled at), pink shirt replacing the professors cardigans he'd once been so proud of. That in itself gave the telepath an aura that left her unsettled, yet it wasn't what truly disturbed her. The way he was gazing at her…it was wrong. He was confident, and not in the way Charles usually was. He looked almost sinister with the barest trace of a smile brushed onto his face. His eyes twinkled with playfulness the same way they did when he was playing a game of strategy, yet marred by an unforgiving light she hadn't seen since-

"I grow tired of your games, Raven. You need to come home."

Not a request. An order. The voice she'd silenced in the back of her mind came back full force. Something was wrong.

"You're not my brother."

He threw his arms in the air in mock congratulation.

"Give the girl a prize!" the vision with her brother's face said, grinning outright. "Though not completely accurate. I'm just the part he doesn't let you see."

No, no, no, that couldn't be. He was supposed to be gone.

"I know exactly what you are. We met," she said, making sure to keep her expression perfectly neutral. She knew how he reacted to weakness.

"We did. It's been far too long."

"Not long enough. How- how are you here? He locked you away. You can't be here." The fear she was trying to keep from her voice was trickling through, she could tell. Even if she couldn't, the amused glint in Not-Charles' eyes confirmed it.

Not-Charles shrugged and walked a few paces before turning back, arms crossed behind his back in a pose so close to one of Charles' own it made Raven feel sick.

"He did lock me away. And now he's let me out."

"He wouldn't-"

"He did. And you, my dear, need to come home."

"Why would I come home to you?" she spat.

"How else are you going to save poor innocent Charles from me?"

She shook her head. "I won't. Trask deserves to die for what he's done. After that, I'll deal with whatever you've done to Charles."

Not-Charles sighed and glanced to the ceiling, the picture of "put-upon". His eyes were slowly melting into orange and there was a halo around his whole body the same color. "You misunderstand me. You don't have a choice in the matter. I may not be able to break those shields you have around your precious mind yet, but I can cause you considerable pain trying."

The pain dropped her to her knees before she could start screaming. Distantly, she felt her fingers digging into her scalp, trying to find a way to stop the agony. A thousand knives were stabbing her mind over and over again. She knew she was screaming, sobbing. Why was no one helping her? Couldn't they see she was dying?

Then it stopped. She fell forward, hands barely catching herself from dropping all the way to the filthy airport floor. Echoes of pain reverberated across her mind. She coughed out a last sob. Who had stopped him? Who was even capable of stopping him?

She looked up.

Oh. Of course.

Everyone around her was frozen…including the fiery version of Charles that had been attacking her. He had an ugly grimace on his face that she couldn't stand to see etched on Charles' features. Luckily, her eyes were drawn elsewhere.

Standing in front of her attacker was Charles. The real Charles. She could tell because he was just as broken as the man she'd just seen in Paris. He was staring at her as if he were in physical pain. Sorrow, guilt, and remorse fought for dominance behind his crystal blue eyes.

"Ch-Charles?" she asked, wincing at another residual lance of pain.

"Raven," Charles half-whispered back. He was kneeling in front of her not a second later, yet another reminder that he wasn't really there. Even before the events at the beach, he wasn't that quick.

"I'm so sorry, Raven. I had no idea he would attack you."

"What- he wasn't lying? You- you let him out?"

Charles winced and shot a glance back to his frozen doppelganger. "You remember who he is?"

"Of course I remember who he is," she snapped. She pushed herself up to fully sit up, forcing Charles to lean back so they were on the same level. This was not a conversation to have at a disadvantage no matter how much her head hurt. "He nearly killed those-"

"I know what he did."

"Then why did you let him out?! Why did you let him come back after all this time?!"

"Because he never left." It wasn't a shout, but it wasn't the calm Charles she was used to either. He was no longer hiding his frustration and pain. "There has never been a moment in which I didn't feel his presence. Never one second in which he wasn't prodding me to give in. He is everything I did not wish to be. And I was finally rid of him. The serum kept him silent because without my telepathy, how could he exist?"

Only about half of Charles' ramblings made sense, and it wasn't because he seemed halfway to manic as he said them. How had she not known about this…that the monster she thought he'd rid himself of continued to plague him? And what was this business about a serum? There were too many variables, too much unknown to make a strategic judgment. She needed more, but there was no time.

"But this- this serum isn't a factor now and he's back," she said.

The telepath's gaze had become distant, but snapped back to her at her words. "I'm sorry, Raven. It's been too much. I've lost- it's been too much. I saw the future and- you cannot imagine. It's our worst nightmare. I cannot allow it to come to pass if there is anything I can do to stop it."

More nonsense. Seeing the future? That was…even with all the different mutations out there, seeing the future still seemed, well, insane. Her chest constricted as she watched her brother watching her. Had he gone insane? Had his telepathy turned against him? If that was the case, logic would make no difference to him. She'd have to come up with an argument going on the assumption that everything he was saying was true.

"Letting _him_ out isn't the way. He can't be the solution. You're sacrificing everything that you are."

Charles shook his head. "But I'm not. Just because I wish to hide him away does not make him any less a part of me. He is who I am. In the future, we worked together."

"He's insane." _And you look it too_.

"He calls himself Onslaught now."

"Then _Onslaught_ is insane. Jeez, Charles, how can you not see this? He just tried to kill me. Just like Erik did."

Charles flinched at that. It was a low blow, she knew, but something had to bring him back to reality.

"Onslaught is still me. I-" he paused, shook his head minutely with a glance back to his counterpart. "I have every faith he will do what he needs to to stop the future we saw."

She pulled back. "You're going to let him kill me?"

"No! No, never. He- We would never do that."

"Charles, he was trying to kill me literally two minutes ago."

"He wasn't. He was trying to convince you to come back."

"Well then he's terrible at convincing."

Charles winced again, not turning his head fully, but shifting his eyes to the side then back. "You're saying you didn't start considering changing your ticket to New York as soon as he showed up in front of you?"

She looked away.

"He's not going to kill you. I'll stop him hurting you more. I'm so sorry he attacked you. And I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but I need to know that you'll stop me if it comes to it."

"Stop you? Are you kidding? You just said he was doing what's best for the future." She couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice in the last phrase.

"He has control of our body for the first time since I was a teenager. He will do what's necessary to stop the future we saw from coming about, but he's angry and he's powerful. If he keeps going after that, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop him. I need to know that you will fight for me. He's almost as angry at you as he is at Erik for leaving, but there's a part of him that's purely me…that loves his sister. It's why he won't kill you now. We're capable of hurting the ones we love, but killing is a step even Onslaught won't take. If we get out of control, you will stop us."

She stared at him. "That's a hell of a gamble, Charles. You're betting my life. If you're wrong…"

"It's not a gamble. I guarantee he won't kill you. Please, I don't have much time," he pled.

That much was evident. Not-Charles…Onslaught…wasn't quite as frozen as he had been before. His demeanor had shifted to a terrifying combination of anger and psychopathy. It didn't instill much confidence in what Charles was telling her. Then again, what choice did she have? Whether she agreed or not, she wouldn't be able to get far enough fast enough that Cerebro couldn't find her.

"I promise if I'm alive and he gets out of control, I'll stop him."

A weight lifted off Charles' shoulders. He leaned forward and cupped her cheek.

"Thank you. I've missed you so much. You're stronger than I ever gave you credit for. And I'm very sorry, but this may hurt again."

Before his words could register, Charles flickered out of existence. The pain slammed back into her, but pulled back almost immediately. Not fast enough that it didn't leave her panting on the floor again.

"See you in Washington."

When she looked up, Onslaught was gone.

"Are you okay, dear?" a stewardess asked. Oh, right, she was still on the floor. A crowd was gathering. Not good.

"I- I'm fine. I tripped."

She took the woman's proffered hand and got to her feet, wincing. Her head ached.

"Are you sure you're alright? Can I help you get anywhere?"

Loath as she was to admit it, Charles had been right. She did want to go back to Westchester. There were too many questions left unanswered. She needed to know more before she could figure out how to save Charles from Onslaught. She'd opened her mouth to ask the stewardess about changing a flight from Washington to New York, but stopped herself as Onslaught's last words struck her.

Onslaught knew where she was headed. He was going to intercept her. If she went to New York, she'd find an empty house where she'd be forced to watch whatever the entity decided to unleash on Washington unfold with her on the sidelines. That would be no good. She was left with two options: Risk trying to make it to New York before they left so she could figure out how to get Charles back or head to Washington and face Onslaught blind.

Why were there never any easy choices?

"Miss? Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine. The flight to Washington, where is it leaving from?"

"Just up on your right, I believe."

"And is there a payphone nearby?"

"Past the boarding area and to the left by the bathrooms."

"Thank you."

She was gone before the stewardess could pester her more about her well-being. The payphone was a long shot, but it was the best she was going to get.

* * *

Back in Westchester, Charles was taking off the helmet.

"Why didn't you shut her down?" Hank asked. The boy had the gall to sound frustrated.

"It's too soon. My power isn't fully functional yet."

He wished it was a lie, but it wasn't. He genuinely hadn't been able to get through Raven's shields. Damn Charles for crippling them for so long.

"Where is she?" the burly man…what was his name…ah, yes, Logan interrupted.

"She's at an airport boarding a plane," he answered. And he'd said it too casually. Hank was wondering why he wasn't more concerned. Concern was never his strong suit.

"A plane to where?"

"Washington DC"

Perhaps it would be easier to get them to follow his plan than he'd imagined.

Hank wanted to show them something. As they walked (rolled in Onslaught's case) through the house, the telephone rang. Hank made for it. None of that. With a tilt of Onslaught's head, the boy altered course. Onslaught wheeled to the phone and picked it up.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

There was a pause, then Raven's voice. "I'd been hoping."

"Even if you were able to tell them, they'd never be able to stop me."

"What are you after? Charles said you're both trying to save the future, but that's not all, is it? You have another endgame."

Intelligent as ever, his sister. He could feel Charles perk up, stretching to hear what he was going to reply. As if he'd be so stupid.

"You'll just have to wait it out, darling. Lovely to speak to you again. Sorry about the headache. I let my temper get the best of me. Oh, and don't waste your money calling back. No one will answer but me."

With that, he hung up the phone. Hank and Logan were waiting and Onslaught had an act to keep up.

* * *

_Two sections are direct quotes from the movie. All the dialogue between Onslaught and Raven from "Raven, stop. Stop running." to "I have compassion. Just not for Trask. He's murdered too many of us." then the four lines between Onslaught and Logan from "Where is she?" to "Washington DC"._

_I'll try to update more frequently. A new semester starts up at the beginning of September. I'm not teaching my own class, but I'm a TA with quite a few duties. Hopefully I'll have more time to set aside for writing than I had over the summer._

_Oh, and there will be more scenes that weren't in the movie. The epic writing failure I had was me attempting to write a non-movie scene, so I figured if I wanted to get something published it should be a movie-based scene to slowly build back in. We'll depart more from the movie as time goes on._

_Thanks for reading (and for putting up with the long wait)! Reviews are welcome._


	3. Chapter 3

_My goal is to get a chapter done per month. I got this one done just under the wire, but, hey, it's done. _

_Passion of Imbattables: Curiosity is good! TA is teaching assistant. I do the grading for the class, teach some lectures on occasion, and answer student questions. I had to teach a major lecture a few days ago and I had a ton of grading come in, thus the delay. Thank you so much for the support! It means a lot. And thanks for the long review. I love hearing from you!_

_Weemcg33: Aww thanks for being patient and awesome! That will come in handy during this story apparently since updates aren't coming as quickly as I'd like them to. It helps so much to get encouragement though, so it's lovely to hear from you. :) You're getting your wish with Erik coming into it! Yay!_

_Thanks to my other amazing reviewers as well. Every little bit helps and it's really nice to hear positive things from you, especially with all the criticism that tends to come in grad school._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Ain't no rest for the wicked (Cage the Elephant, "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked")**

Onslaught stared at the figure in the mirror. He looked…raggedy. Hardly how he should appear. It didn't help that the mirror was at a bothersome height. He'd almost had to resort to Raven's old vanity before finding a bathroom with a mirror that would show more than the top of his head. Had Charles really been in such denial that he hadn't properly equipped their home for his wheelchair?

He surely hadn't kept it in order since he'd started taking the serum. The first place Onslaught had headed after Hank had shown them the footage of Raven (and his very Charles-like, hope-filled spiel about people losing their way, which he was quite proud of, thank you very much) was his bedroom to try to get some rest. By rest, he obviously meant to stretch his powers, but Hank and Logan needn't know any different.

That was when he realized how wheelchair-navigable Charles' bedroom had become over the past few years. Which was to say not wheelchair navigable at all.

Hank had followed him (overprotective lad that he was) and had immediately offered to clear the room. Actually, he had squeezed into the room and started clearing a path while simultaneously offering to do it.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I have some rather bad associations with this room. Perhaps I'll spend the night in one of the guest rooms until we can get everything put in its proper place."

Onslaught gave himself a mental pat on the back when Hank gave him a relieved smile.

"I'll air out one of the rooms."

He'd let McCoy be helpful. Surely, the boy had become accustomed to it over the last few years. Nothing wrong with having someone do the work for you. Unless, of course, it was something important. Never rely on others to do something important for you. They never fail to let you down.

Speaking of let downs, he'd finally gotten a good look outside of his mind at the face he was working with when he went to wash up for bed.

He picked up a chunk of wavy hair, pulled it up to inspect, and let it drop back down to his temple. Looking away from the mirror only gave him a better view of the Charles' room across the hall. He could see three syringes without much effort, god knows what else was strewn about the floor. He sighed, running his hand over the stubble covering the bottom half of his face, and turned back to his reflection.

"What a mess you've left me with, Charles."

He'd gotten his face and teeth brushed (twice because he couldn't trust a man who chose to wear the pink monstrosity of a shirt he had on with matters of hygiene) by the time Hank popped back in.

"The guest room is ready."

He finished wiping his face with his towel and plastered a genial smile on his face. "Thank you."

Hank paused and Onslaught dropped the smile. Damn, he'd never been good at genial. He could feel himself losing his carefully controlled image, tinges of orange starting to shine through. Once upon a time, he'd been able to contain it easily, but he was out of practice and it was actually taking quite a bit of energy to keep up the image of normality.

Perhaps he could get past Hank before the boy said anything. He was just a meter away from the door to the guest room-

"Charles, are you alright?"

He gave a silent sigh and looked towards the ceiling. So close.

"Why do you ask?" He needed to keep his face towards the door. He had a feeling his eyes were too telling for the boy to see, especially if he was already sensing something was amiss.

"You just…you were broken and now you're not."

"And that's a problem?"

"No!" Hank said, a bit too fast. "I only wonder…it was so rapid. I left to go fix the power and when I came back, it was like the past few years hadn't happened. Then in Cerebro, after Raven, you were detached. You'd just spoken with your sister and she refused to come home, not to mention everything that happened with Erik…To be perfectly honest, I was expecting you to fall further, not recover."

The boy was fidgeting, nervous. His mind was shaky.

But perceptive.

More perceptive than Onslaught been hoping.

"It has been a trying few days." He obviously couldn't pull off genial, so he tried for sympathetic. "I've perhaps compartmentalized more than I should. We must be prepared for what is to come. Erik showed his true colors. We know what he is willing to do now that he's been released." Charles' emotions were swelling again. Pesky little things. He swatted them away, felt Charles recoil at the ease with which he did it. Recoiled and yet…there was something else. Curiosity.

Intriguing.

He closed his eyes, focused on controlling the roiling power that had been surging since the serum had worn off. When he turned to Hank, the boy gave no reaction so he must have done okay. He continued, "We both know I wouldn't be functional if I wasn't taking some action to separate myself from current events. I'll need your help, Hank. When all this is over, no matter what the outcome, I'll need you to step in and deal with the result."

"Of course. I just-"

_Enough. _

Hank blinked as his train of thought dispersed.

"I'm going to bed now," Onslaught said. "You should do the same. You look tired and we'll likely be dealing with Erik again in the very near future."

Hank furrowed his brow, opened his mouth then closed it. "Yes, of course. I'll wake you in the morning?"

"Thank you, Hank."

Whether it was the power or some odd withdrawal from the serum, Charles' body wasn't exhausted at all. His telepathy was reaching out, begging to hear, to observe, to control.

And why shouldn't it? A little practice wouldn't hurt.

"Hank?"

McCoy turned back around from halfway down the hall. "Charles?"

"I've changed my mind. I think I'd like to give Cerebro another whirl."

"You're going after Raven again?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead. But now that he was…

"No. I have something else in mind."

Hank's mind was hesitating. A push in the right direction was all it took to get him moving toward the basement with Onslaught following behind.

_You must let me talk to him first._

_Ah, Charles, I was wondering when I'd be hearing from you again. I thought we had agreed that I was I control now._

_And you'll remain that way. Even if I wanted to overthrow you, you know as well as I that that isn't possible with the state I'm in. I just…I need to give him a chance._

An intriguing proposal. That curiosity Onslaught had felt from Charles earlier was peeking through again. Curiosity at Onslaught's ability to keep emotions at bay. If Charles was associating that state with what they were about to do…that was something to see. He'd at least be able to gauge where Charles would stand in the event that drastic action had to be taken.

_Very well. I'll allow you to have the first go._

Charles gave the mental equivalent of cautious side-glance. _You're willing to cede control to me so soon after gaining our body? _

_As you said, I'm more powerful than you are at the moment. _

_So you'll barge in and shove me out of the way when you decide you've had enough of sitting back._ The words left a bitter taste in Onslaught's mouth.

_No. I'm feeling particularly generous. I'll come in when you allow me to. It's in your hands._

Onslaught let a mental chuckle echo at the mystification that bled from Charles. It quickly turned to wariness.

_Why? What do you get out of it?_

_I get to see what your limits are, and I get the satisfaction of both of us knowing when you decide you've had enough and want to do things my way._

_If I decide to do things your way._

Onslaught chuckled again. _Yes, if_.

_You're so sure I'll let you to take over again._

_Absolutely positive. You talk as long as you want. I'll come in when you've had enough. That's what I'm here for, after all._

Charles seemed satisfied enough, if a bit wary. But they were at Cerebro now. No more worrying. It was time for action.

* * *

Erik shut the door to his hotel. It rattled, either from poor building standards or residual power emanating from him after infusing the Sentinels with a more cooperative substance.

The humans seriously underestimated him if they thought their Sentinels couldn't be modified. With the flick of his wrist, in fact.

He didn't bother flipping the lamp on. The waning sunlight was enough to light the room. The hotel he'd chosen was dingy. The dinginess was what had drawn him to it. The doors creaked and the wallpaper was peeling, but the water wasn't brown and the bedspread was clean and, most importantly, there wasn't a speck of bright white to be seen. It didn't speak well for the cleaning staff's ability to care for porcelain (or perhaps the toilet and bathtub were supposed to be that color…he wasn't up on current trends in decor).

If he didn't see a white wall until the day he died, it would be too soon.

Charles would be appalled.

Actually, based on Charles' apparent mental state, perhaps he wouldn't be. The man had barely held it together during their brief reunion. It had been a shame they had to part so abruptly. Of the two of them, Charles had fared the worst, an impressive feat since guards didn't take well to mutant presidential assassins.

He was torn. Charles had let them all down. He had failed their kind, failed Erik. Mutants had died and Charles had been off doing who knows what, blind and deaf to the cries of their brothers and sisters in need.

And yet…

It was clear Erik had underestimated the damage Charles had endured as much as the humans underestimated Magneto.

He'd have to pay Charles a visit after his errand in Washington was complete. Assuming Charles would talk to him after he'd performed his task, that is.

The press conference didn't start until midday though. Plenty of time to rest and prepare.

Not ten minutes after he'd laid down on a truly heinous floral bedspread, he sensed another presence. The knife under his pillow flew towards the presence as he shot to his feet. The adrenaline rush tapered the instant he saw who it was. Charles stood by television, arms crossed over his chest, unamused eyebrow raised at the knife now embedded in the wall directly behind his shoulder.

"Always on the defensive."

"One has to be when we're at war." The knife flew out of the wall back to Erik's hand through the projection of Charles. He tucked it back under his pillow. "I see you've regained command of your powers. Sleep less important when I'm free to threaten your illusion of peace?"

"There are bigger things happening here than you and I, Erik. We're not at war yet. I've seen it. It's not a a future any of us want."

"You've seen what the humans did and you're still here trying to convince me to take the righteous path."

"I'm not here to convince you of anything."

Erik scoffed. Charles paused, glaring.

"I'm here to determine how much of a threat you're going to be."

"What are you going to do, Charles? Will you neuter me here and now if I don't agree to think as you do?"

Charles closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped just the slightest bit, inching closer back to the man Erik had played chess with on the plane. All the thoughts of pity he'd had for the telepath had been pushed to the back of his mind. They had to be with Charles occupying it.

With much less gusto, Charles returned his gaze to Erik. "Why did you try to kill Raven?"

Not the route he was expecting, but not an entirely unexpected line of questioning. He shrugged. "We were there for the same reason. I was doing what was best for the future. Mystique was going to be the death of us all."

"And killing is obviously the only way to eliminate threats, yes?"

"The most effective."

He felt the grasp on his wrist before he perceived Charles' movement. In a flash of paisley and chocolate, he was slammed into the wall, both wrists held firm above his head where Charles pinned them. The back of his head smacked into the wall right in the spot he'd stitched earlier. His vision whited out, but even without his vision he could tell Charles was close, close enough that he could feel the telepath's breath against his face.

When he blinked the stars out of his eyes, he couldn't hold back a sharp intake of breath. In the time between grabbing his wrist and pinning him to the wall, Charles had shifted from the broken man he'd gone to Paris with to the fresh-faced mutant who had led him into Cuba. Charles' eyes flashed between blue and orange before settling on an unearthly sienna color that smoldered even though his face was in shadow.

"What-Charles-"

The man who looked like Charles tilted his head. "I have been shot in the back. I have been betrayed and abandoned not once, but twice. My hopes, my dreams, have been destroyed. My sister was almost murdered. Coincidentally, all by the same man."

He looked insane. A sickly sweet smile slid across his face, creating a mismatch between message and expression that was hard to reconcile. What had happened over the past decade? Never before, even during his rage on the flight to Paris, had Erik felt threatened by Charles. But now, when Charles was so obviously occupying his mind and more than willing to exercise power, it reminded Erik just how powerful a telepath undefended against could be.

Charles let go of his wrists, yet they remained trapped above his head. No matter how much he pulled and struggled, he could do nothing. He reached for his power, felt nothing but solitude from the metal that usually sang to him.

"Charles-"

With a hard glare, Erik felt his body press harder against the wall. "You had your power tantrum on the plane. Am I not allowed one of my own?" Erik recoiled at the mock-wounded tone Charles put on, earning him a satisfied smirk before Charles started a slow pace, hands firmly held behind his back as if he were engaging in a debate with a particularly irritating student in class.

"You almost started a world war. Regardless of your intentions, you made it appear that mutants were the ones to assassinate the President of the United States. You outed mutants to the general public, tried to kill Raven with an audience, and left Hank hanging in a fountain like an art display. What if government officials had gotten to him before he got free, hmm? You blame me for a great many things, but if they got Hank or, heaven forbid, if they got enough of Raven's blood off the concrete…And for none of this do you have any regret." Charles stopped, looked Erik straight in the eye. "The only threat I see to the future of mutantkind is you."

It would've been easier to hear the accusation if whatever his mind had conjured up – because this had to be a dream – didn't sound so fiercely logical. He'd heard Charles work through problems before. One of the best parts of their short time together in the 60s had been seeing Charles throw out every piece of evidence, putting the puzzle together until the picture of the solution was revealed. This Charles had the same intonation, the same pacing, the same mental process. The only difference was the indifference. Whenever other beings be they mutant or human were involved, Charles applied a layer of compassion that had been stripped from this version.

Not-Charles stood deep in thought, one arm crossed over his chest, the other resting on it so that his fist laid over his mouth. Despite his anger at the telepath, Erik couldn't stand to see the emotionless shell in front of him. He pulled at the invisible restraints. Nothing.

"Are you going to kill me then, Charles?"

A half smile peeked out from behind Not-Charles' fist.

"I think I won't right now. I've had my fun. Besides, we'll see each other soon enough."

With the flick of Charles' wrist, Erik felt the restraints lift. He stumbled forward as his sense of the metal around him returned. He reached out to pull whatever he could toward the creature standing in front of him. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Charles so he should feel no guilt.

He didn't get the chance.

"Pleasant dreams, Erik."

Erik sat straight up on the bed. The room was dark, much darker than the still dusky sky that had been shown through the window when he'd gotten back. The lamp on the bedside table shook. So did the windows. Shaking, it seemed, with his clinched fists. They stopped after he took a cleansing breath.

It was just a dream. It must have been. There was no sign of the apparition that had attacked him. Seeing Charles must have affected him more than he thought it had. He skimmed the room again, stopped when he reached the wall beside the television. There was a notch, barely noticeable, but there.

As if knife had been thrown into it.

He shook his hands out. It had to have been a dream. Charles wasn't that powerful, nor would he threaten to kill Erik even after everything he'd been through. And yet…

It wouldn't hurt to make one more stop on the way to Washington. After all, what would the mighty Magneto be without his helmet?

* * *

_I'm going to try to post at least once a month. That's my goal. I'm a tad busier than I thought I would be, but I'll do my best._

_I may make revisions to this chapter because it's not my fave. Let me know if you have suggestions. I tend to write like the reading I do and I've been doing a lot of academic reading, which is great for school but not so great for fanfic writing. So let me know what you think and if I see room for improvement I may give it a shot. Until next time!_


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